


Fraternity

by Vera_dAuriac



Series: Coming Clean [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Sex Toys, Spitroasting, education kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 03:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16865194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_dAuriac/pseuds/Vera_dAuriac
Summary: New to the Musketeers, d'Artagnan is initiated into some of the regiment's more exciting mysteries.





	Fraternity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snow_Glory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_Glory/gifts), [CanadianGarrison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianGarrison/gifts).



> Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas to my dear smutty ladies. Love you both.
> 
> And thus ends Coming Clean, which was always envisioned as a trilogy. It’s been a long time coming, and heaven knows most readers assumed it would never happen, but when dealing with naked, wet Musketeers, anything is possible.
> 
> I still don’t own these characters. Sigh.

**By Vera d'Auriac**

 

Two days ago felt like a different life. D’Artagnan had been in the garrison armory, testing swords, his own somehow feeling a bit out of balance all of a sudden. But when Athos came up behind him, ostensibly to help him with his form, d’Artagnan realized that far more than just his sword was out of balance. His breath hitched and a shiver went through his body, and when Athos noticed, he pushed closer.

“Do you require additional help?” Athos whispered into his ear in that infuriatingly seductive tone of his.

“No,” d’Artagnan panted, pulling away.

But Athos hadn’t believed him, since of course d’Artagnan had been lying, and a moment later, d’Artagnan found himself pushed against a wall, Athos’s thigh pressed between his legs against his very erect cock. “I would be more than happy to help with that,” Athos rubbed. “If you want, I could even show you how some Musketeers help each other, should you care to be initiated into that secret.”

Panting harder than ever, unable to do anything other than stare alternatively at Athos’s intense eyes and his slightly parted lips, d’Artagnan changed everything by nodding. “Yes. I want that.”

Athos brushed his lips across d’Artagnan’s, the act more promise than kiss. “Let me talk to the others, and we will find a time to bring you into our brotherhood. Our fraternity.”

And now here, just two days later, d’Artagnan was naked, tied fast to a pole in the garrison bathhouse, trembling with anticipation of what Athos, Porthos, and Aramis had in mind for him next. They had already stripped him, bathed him, coated his body with oil, all six of their hand on him at once in a dizzying display of affection. But they said they could go no further at this time, they must wait, but for what, d’Artagnan could not guess.

“Would you look at this.”

D’Artagnan’s restraints only held him by arms, chest, and thighs, so he could turn his head to the door at the bottom of the stairs that led down from the Captain’s office. None other than Treville himself stood there, an unreadable glare taking in four naked, damp Musketeers, one of whom was tied to a pole. D’Artagnan’s stomach flipped, and he realized that his dreams of ever becoming a real Musketeer had ended, and he would now have to…return to Lupiac and rebuild? How could they have all be so careless?

But then the most surprising event that had occurred since Athos had found him two days ago in the armory unfolded before his eyes. Rather than rushing to dress or untie d’Artagnan or invent some feeble explanation for what Treville had walked in on, Athos walked directly over to the Captain, and without hesitation, pulled him into a passion kiss. That was returned. Treville’s hands gliding all over Athos’s naked frame. D’Artagnan thought he might have found the moment exciting if he could force himself to believe what he was witnessing.

When Treville broke from Athos, he smiled at Porthos and Aramis who had not left their spot perched on the edge of the large soaking bath. But at this invitation, they rose and met Treville half way across the room before the table where men could lay out for examination and treatment. What Treville lay there now was a bag he had carried in on his shoulder.

Aramis raised and eyebrow at the bag, a crooked grin lighting up his face. “You have brought your promised accoutrements.”

Treville kissed those mischievous lips. “I have indeed.” He turned to Porthos and kissed him as well. “I think we will all enjoy this.” But then he turned to d’Artagnan, who had only been able to watch these stunning exchanges in silence, and here, the smile departed his face. D’Artagnan had never before so profoundly wished to be somewhere other than where he found himself. “Although, I fear someone is not enjoying this night as much as one might wish.” Moving an accusing scowl from Porthos to Aramis and ending on Athos, he said, “You neglected to tell him to expect me.”

“We thought you would want to make an entrance,” Athos answered.

Shaking his head in reply, Treville pushed himself off the table and came directly to d’Artagnan. He stopped less than a foot away, and d’Artagnan suddenly felt more naked than he had at any point in his life. Treville raised his right hand as though he wished to cup d’Artagnan’s cheek, and d’Artagnan could feel his eyes grow wide with anticipation and trepidation. His look caused Treville to pause, his hand hovering inches from d’Artagnan’s cheek.

“I’m sorry they did not inform you I would be here,” said Treville. “Know that tonight, I am not your Captain, but your brother, and if my being here doesn't make this better for you, I will leave, no ill feelings between us.”

The thought that Treville believed d’Artagnan might not want him here finally brought d’Artagnan to his senses. “No, sir. I…I would like you here very much.” He dropped his eyes. “ _Very_ much. I just never thought you would be included in such a night. Your presence here,” and d’Artagnan forced himself to look up again, “it only makes me even happier to have been asked to join this brotherhood.”

Treville finally completed the gesture he had begun and rested his hand on d’Artagnan’s cheek. “And I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here. May I kiss you, d’Artagnan?”

In the bath, Athos, Aramis, and Porthos had kissed him gently on his hands, neck, legs, back, chest, but none of them had kissed him on the mouth. His cock was suddenly hard as a rock and he could barely catch his breath sufficiently to answer, “Yes.”

Slowly, Treville leaned in, beginning gently, his lips moving only minutely over d’Artagnan’s. But he gradually pushed harder, opened further, until his tongue slipped between d’Artagnan’s lips and found his own tongue and searched his mouth. He’d never been kissed so completely, and d’Artagnan desperately wished he could embrace Treville, pull close this man who was offering to be his lover and not his commander for the night. Why had he ever agreed to this bondage?

“Look at him pull,” Porthos whispered.

“You were right, Athos,” said Aramis. “He’s far too eager to allow loose. Tying him to the pole was absolutely the right decision.”

“Thank you,” Athos replied as though he’d been complimented on nothing more than having his scarf on straight. “It’s for the best. He will enjoy it all so much more this way.”

Treville at this point broke the kiss, although d’Artagnan would have been happy for it to last all night. Smoothing the hair from d’Artagnan’s forehead, Treville grinned and said, “Something to know about Aramis—when restraining someone is an option, he will almost always choose it. The other two,” Treville passed to shake his head. “The other two have learned a great deal from Aramis. You don’t mind being tied?”

“No,” d’Artagnan answered, honestly liking it in equal measure to his desire to be loose. “I, well, I trust them to know.”

Treville kissed him softly once more. “They will always take care of you, as will I. That’s what this brotherhood is about. Are you ready for the night to begin?”

Nodding, d’Artagnan took a deep breath. “Yes. Please.”

“I think it is best if you observe at first,” Treville said, returning to the others at the table. “I brought some things I believe Porthos, Aramis, and Athos will enjoy and explain a bit about what they like.” He brushed his fingers down Aramis’s chest. “There’s nothing more important in what we do here than knowing how we may best serve our brothers. This fraternity is really no different than how we feel about each other and the rest of the regiment when we fight together.” He turned back to face d’Artagnan. “Do you understand?”

“Yes. I do. Tell me what they like. What you like.”

Treville smiled. “We’ll get to what I like later. Let’s start with Aramis.” He reached in to his bag and pulled out a coil of rope, perhaps five feet long. “As I said earlier, Aramis enjoys being…limited. It’s really rather necessary a good deal of the time. Otherwise he would be too much, for himself and his partners.” With that, Treville swiftly tied a looping knot and slipped it over Aramis’s head. Pulling it tight enough that it would not make it over Aramis’s head of its own accord but not so tight that it would choke him, Treville then fixed the other end around one of the table legs. “I think you might enjoy this,” he added, taking a thick, long rod of what looked like marble from his bag.

Aramis’s eyes lit up as he rubbed it obscenely, and it dawned on d’Artagnan what its purpose was. “It is everything you led me to expect. Thank you.”

Treville kissed his forehead. “Porthos, he may need some assistance preparing himself for my gift.”

“There is nothing I’d rather do.” Porthos reached around Aramis and picked up one of the many oils on the table they had already been messaging into each other’s bodies tonight.

“How is this?” Aramis asked, turning to leaning against the table, presenting his ass to Porthos.

“Fucking perfect,” Porthos growled.

“Not quite,” Treville injected, feeling inside the worn leather bag that d’Artagnan was beginning to believe contained magic. “We would not want you becoming overly excited with your task, so I have something for you, as well.” He removed a strip of leather, but at first d’Artagnan could not make out what it was or might it might be used for. But then Treville stepped up to Porthos and placed the leather over Porthos’s cock and then around his balls before using a notch to hold it there. Holding his breath, d’Artagnan just looked on in shock, not having ever seen or imagined such a thing. But Porthos seemed incredibly pleased as he thanked Treville with a deep, wet kiss.

“You see, d’Artagnan, Aramis loves many things. Restraints and performing for his lovers, being just two of them.” Treville began to strip during this speech, and d’Artagnan found that he longed to see his Captain’s body, which had always been hidden from him, Treville liking to bathe at different times from the men. And Porthos had now dumped oil onto his fingers and slipped them into Aramis’s crease. “Porthos on the other hand,” Treville continued, tossing his doublet on a chair and starting on the laces at the throat of his shirt, “he longs to please others with his body. It is literally the only way he can find his own true pleasure.” Treville paused to smile as Aramis moaned and Porthos hummed in return, proving Treville’s point. “Athos is more difficult.”

“Should I be horribly offended?” Athos asked in his relaxed drawl, but now moving to Treville so that he might remove Treville’s pants.

“You are who you are, Athos. You have tried to be someone else, and it has only led to pain.” When Athos focused even more exclusively on Treville’s clothing, refusing to make eye contact, Treville tilted his face up with a hand under the chin. “But I will always be here to help you find yourself.”

With a hunger d’Artagnan had never dreamed might lurk within Athos’s soul, he nearly swallowed Treville in a ferocious kiss. D’Artagnan gasped, shocked at the fury, but Treville only pulled Athos tighter and returned the kiss as viciously as Athos gave it.

“It’s a sight, isn’t it?” Aramis said before emitting a low moan. D’Artagnan, although he didn’t want to look away from Athos and Treville, forced himself to glance over to where Porthos had Aramis bent over the table, who knew how many fingers in Aramis’s ass. He realized they were beautiful, too, and he suddenly didn’t know where to look, but his cock was so hard, and he wanted to touch himself, to touch them. But all he could do was let out a small whine and bite his lip and wait.

Porthos chuckled. “You alright over there, d’Artagnan?”

He had to fight to catch his breath, but d’Artagnan managed to answer, “Yes.” But at that moment, he noticed Athos removing the last of Treville’s clothes, so now the Captain, still handsome and strong and everything d’Artagnan could have ever dreamed him to be, stood naked only a few feet away. “I’m fine,” he whispered.

Treville smiled at d’Artagnan with a shake of the head before kissing Athos swiftly on the mouth. “Athos, if you would like to climb up on the table, I would be happy to perform the same service for you that our good Porthos is for dear Aramis. And once we get that going, I can give you your present.”

“If anything as nice as what you have brought for Aramis and Porthos is waiting for me, I will follow your every instruction.” With no further discussion, Athos climb atop the table, his face so close to Aramis’s they unsurprisingly began kissing, although Athos had to lean a bit extra to make up for the limits the leash around Aramis’s neck put on his mobility. Porthos growled his appreciation and worked Aramis with renewed vigor.

Meanwhile, Treville took up a jar of oil, pouring some into his hand as he crooked an eyebrow at d’Artagnan. “You’re slowly getting an idea of what is possible,” Treville said when he reached up and began exploring Athos who knelt on all fours before him. “Do you know yet what you might find enjoyable? Or at least what seems appealing to try? And I do not simply mean specific acts, but what you desire emotionally.”

In all his life, d’Artagnan had never felt so overwhelmed and confused. How could he possibly answer Treville? He wanted everything, yet the mere thought of all of it left him trembling. All he knew for certain was how much he loved watching all of this, never before having been so hard and aching and aroused. “I…I can’t say yet. All I know is that I’m so happy you’ve brought me here so see this.”

“Oh, your part will not remain voyeuristic,” Treville answered with the wickedest grin d’Artagnan had ever witnessed. “There are endless possibilities. Let me tell me more about your brothers. For instance, Aramis cannot stand to not have attention.”

“It is true,” Aramis confirmed, wiggling his ass.

“But not just being watched,” explained Treville. “He needs touch and affection constantly. You must have noticed by now how tactile he is.”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan said, feeling a bit giddy watching as Aramis reached down to start stroking Porthos’s swollen cock while Porthos’s fingers continued to disappear into his ass. “He is always patting my back, embracing me. I,” he had to fight not to blush, “I always liked it, but I tried not to think about it. I never thought something like this could be possible.”

Treville planted a soft kiss on Athos’s lower back that struck d’Artagnan as out of sync with the way he thrust his fingers harder into Athos. “Yes. Aramis could make a monk reconsider his vow of celibacy.”

“You have not met many monks, have you, Treville?” Aramis laughed. “That is not as great a compliment as you may believe.”

“Aramis, as you see, also enjoys wordplay as a part of sexual intimacy,” Treville continued. “And Porthos shivers under those words, because Porthos loves the sound of a loving voice.” Porthos hummed in agreement, but did not interrupt Treville. “But some men need more than soft touches and sweet words. Some enjoy pain and force and a partner who will take away their responsibilities and authority for a time.” Treville leaned over and bit Athos hard on the flank, eliciting a rattling moan in Athos’s throat. “Athos,” Treville whispered so that d’Artagnan could barely hear him, “are you ready for what I brought for you?”

“If you are ready to give it to me, yes,” was Athos’s reply, to which Treville bit him again before removing his fingers and picking up a towel.

“Porthos, I suspect Aramis is ready to try out his phallus,” Treville said. “If you would give that to him and come help me with Athos, I would appreciate it.”

“Oh, he’s more than ready,” answered Porthos. “I just love having my fingers in him, making him squirm. I didn’t much want to stop. But for you, I’ll manage.” With a kiss to his forehead, Porthos let his fingers slip from Aramis’s waiting ass and passed over the phallus and oil bottle before joining Treville and wiping his hands.

Once again, d’Artagnan knew not where to look. Treville, one hand still inside Athos, used the other to grope inside his bag, and d’Artagnan longed to know what Athos’s special present might be. But he also had an unobstructed view of Aramis as he reached behind himself to slowly push the phallus inside, and just before it disappeared, d’Artagnan saw that the end tapered before slightly bulging, just like a real cock, and somehow this detail had his very real cock twitching precum all over his stomach.

A loud crack brought d’Artagnan’s attention entirely back to Treville. He had taken a short riding crop from the bag and was snapping it against the edge of the table. D’Artagnan stared, breathing normally impossible, as realization slowly crept over him what the crop must be for. He shivered, the sweat and oil on his skin causing a chill, or at least that was how he explained his reaction. 

“Oh, he’s going to like that,” Porthos said, leering from the crop to Athos and back. “What can I do to help?”

“Pull him flat and hold his wrists. I don’t want him wriggling away.”

Porthos moved to the other end of the table, which meant he had to walk past Aramis again, and he took the opportunity to lace his fingers in Aramis’s hair, yank back, and kiss him. The kiss, in fact, lingered so long that Treville had to clear his throat to pull them apart.

“Sorry about that, but he just looked so pretty,” Porthos said.

And he wasn’t wrong—d’Artagnan watched Aramis slide the phallus in and never quite out of himself, writhing as far as his leash would allow. His body was perfect, the scars only adding to his beauty, and the way he moved was mesmerizing, both lithe and strong, his every gesture supply and elegant. At no point before had he been so close to begging to be freed, but now he longed to be allowed to touch that beautiful body and wrap his own around it and move in tandem with it.  

But then Treville snapped out the order, “Hold him,” and d’Artagnan’s attention returned to the table top, to see Porthos pulling Athos flat on his stomach, his strong hands encircling Athos’s delicate wrists. Without warning, Treville brought the crop down on Athos’s ass. Athos twitched at the contact, but he did not call out or fight to gain his release. Instead, he lay there, compliant, head down, waiting for Treville to hit him again. And again. He, in fact, seemed to be growing more relaxed with every stroke, until d’Artagnan didn’t think Porthos needed to hold him, that Athos would have happily laid their as Treville smacked his ass, his lower back, his thighs. Seeing the release this gave Athos, d’Artagnan began to think he didn’t understand anything at all.

“What do you think, d’Artagnan?” Treville asked. “Do you think Athos looks happy? Do you think you could be made equally happy like this? Do you think you could make Athos happy?”

The questions were all such a shock to d’Artagnan, especially the last. He wanted to make Athos happy more than anything, desired his approbation more than that of any other man, but could he hit Athos? Could he cause Athos pain, even if the end result was to give him pleasure? D’Artagnan could not say, and did not know that he ever would be able to.

“Let us try some other experiments while you work on that question,” Treville said as he gave a final smack with the riding crop to Athos’s backside. “Do you think you are ready to be freed, Aramis?”

Aramis worked the phallus is short, fast strokes, twisting his body as though there were an itch inside his body he needed to reach. “If that is what you desire, but I must say, I am so close, Treville.”

“Then I most certainly must let you loose,” said Treville, stalking around the table to untie Aramis. “I have very specific ideas about when I would like each of you to spend if it can be managed, and as gorgeous as it would be to watch you spend here and now for all of us to watch, I would prefer if you could wait.”

With a sigh and a nod, Aramis removed the phallus. He began to slump, seeming to miss the sensation he had been experiencing, but Treville wrapped Aramis in his arms and kissed him thoroughly, his hands moving all over Aramis’s body. When Treville slowly broke the kiss, Aramis sighed again, but now the sound was content, as though he had needed nothing more than Treville’s lips upon his own.

“What would you have me do?” Aramis asked.

“I believe we have neglected d’Artagnan too long. Would you like to show him a bit of care while Porthos and I use Athos in a rather obscene manner between us?”

Aramis, of course, said yes, but d’Artagnan barely heard the answer for the blood rushing through his ears making him temporarily deaf. The thought of Athos being used, even after he had watched him beaten with a crop, still struck d’Artagnan as impossible and yet alluring in a way he did not comprehend. The concept so overwhelmed him, in fact, he had not registered that Aramis had been freed specifically for his pleasure until he felt Aramis’s light touch on his stomach.

What happened next felt like a dream. D’Artagnan watched and Treville and Porthos both climbed onto the table, Treville behind Athos and Porthos in front, and they pulled Athos back up to all fours. Treville spilled oil all over his cock and began stroking it from root to tip, and at that same moment, Aramis’s hand dropped down to d’Artagnan’s cock and worked it in time with Treville’s. D’Artagnan shuddered at the touch and hissed along with Athos when Treville pushed inside him. When Porthos moved himself into position so that Athos might take Porthos in his mouth, d’Artagnan let out a loud moan, shaking with pleasure and desire, the sights and sensations he was experiencing too much all at once.

“He loves it,” Aramis whispered in d’Artagnan’s ear while lazily stroking him. “Having Treville fill him up while he makes Porthos so happy.”

“It’s beautiful,” d’Artagnan said, the tremble of his body making his words shake as well. He could no longer tell if he loved or hated his bonds—fighting between the desire to participate more actively, but also wondering if these ropes holding him to the post were the only thing holding him together. “I feel like I might tear apart at the seams,” he laughed. “If I had seams.”

Aramis sucked behind d’Artagnan’s ear and squeezed his cock just the right side of too hard. “We all have seams,” Aramis whispered. “Is that what you want? To learn where your seams are?”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan answered quietly, only wanting to expose himself at first to Aramis now that he finally had some clue of what he wanted. But coming apart wasn’t all; he really did want everything, to be fully initiated into all the mysteries of this fraternity. “And more. I look at Athos, and I want to be as lost to everything as he is. But I also want to fill him up and be filled in return.” Aramis bent forward and started licking his nipples, the languid pace of his hand mesmerizing. When Porthos swore and gripped Athos’s hair tight with a lusty hand, d’Artagnan felt his breath hitch. “And I want to know what Athos is doing right now to Porthos. Teach me, Aramis. Teach me everything. How to do what all of you want and how to know what I want in return.”

“You want to know how to suck a man’s cock?” Aramis whispered against d’Artagnan’s neck with smile. “I would _love_ to teach you how. The first lesson is to know the man you’re trying to please, because no two men like it quite the same way. You have to try different things and listen and feel your partner and tease out what he wants. Porthos, for instance, likes constant suction. Treville, once you’ve had some practice, he loves just literally ramming that gorgeous cock of his straight down your throat. In fact, if you just sit back and relax and let him fuck your mouth, all the better. I, on the other hand,” and here Aramis paused to lick d’Artagnan’s earlobe, “I like the tease. Lots of licks, sucking just the tip, pushing your tongue into the slit. And a finger up my ass never goes amiss.”

Somehow, Aramis chuckled after this speech, which left d’Artagnan breathless. His own cock throbbed in Aramis’s hand, and all he wanted was to just spend already. “I’ll try to remember,” he managed to answer.

Aramis kissed d’Artagnan, slowly with a wide open mouth and so much tongue. The ropes were the only thing that allowed him to remain upright. “What do you like, d’Artagnan? Do you know?”

“I…I’m not sure.”

“We should find out.” Aramis dropped to his knees and placed his hands lightly on d’Artagnan’s hips. At first, he merely breathed on d’Artagnan’s cock, which he thought might kill him. But then Aramis kissed the head, brushed his tongue gently across the top, and at last, took d’Artagnan into his mouth.

D’Artagnan had never felt anything so good as Aramis’s hot, wet mouth around him. So far, Aramis was slow and delicate, but d’Artagnan found himself thrusting the tiny distance the ropes allowed him. Aramis chuckled around him before pulling off and lazily licking him a few times. “I’m afraid we will have to try this experiment another time. I’m not sure if you want more, if you’re like Treville and want to use my mouth, or if you’re just so over stimulated you can’t help yourself. What do you think it is?” Aramis took d’Artagnan back in his mouth with a light suck.

Positively giddy now, d’Artagnan laughed. “I don’t know! I really don’t know!”

“What is Aramis doing to you, d’Artagnan?” Treville asked, his voice uneven as he continued to thrust deep inside Athos.

“Teaching me. Trying to anyway.”

“Sounds to me, mmm, that’s nice,” said Porthos, the first part to d’Artagnan and the second to Athos, whose head continued to bob up and down on Porthos’s cock, “like he’s about to make you spend down his pretty throat.”

“That, too.”

At this response, Aramis pulled off d’Artagnan with a soft pop. “Then we must find some other entertainment for you. We promised Treville he could make those sorts of decisions, after all.”

D’Artagnan didn’t recall actually agree to this, but at the moment he could barely remember his own name.

“Aramis,” Treville said, “Can you get d’Artagnan ready for Porthos without making him spend?”

Aramis hummed quizzically as he studied d’Artagnan, much like he did targets at the range. “I am not entirely sure. I could certainly give it a go with the understanding some eventualities cannot be stopped.”

“Of course,” said Treville. “Porthos, as discreet as d’Artagnan was attempting to be as he explained himself to Aramis, I couldn’t help but overhear him confess he desires education from us, and I feel we must not let him down on this front.”

As Treville spoke, Aramis dumped oil from their seemingly endless collection of bottles onto his hand, and just when Porthos made to answer, Aramis’s first finger breached d’Artagnan’s entrance. He whimpered and nearly missed Porthos’s reply. “I’d love to show him how to do anything you think I can teach him. And Athos might not mind coming up for air.”

Treville laughed, and Athos said something about having trouble concentrating with Treville fucking him so well, but d’Artagnan barely heard any of it and understood even less. Aramis’s finger inside of him was one of the most extraordinary sensations of his life. The slight stretch against the nerves at his entrance, and there was something else inside him he could sense Aramis nearing, and the building bliss was driving him to distraction.

“Oh, Treville,” said Aramis, “this is going to be oh so difficult. I’ve rarely seen someone squirm so much when he can barely move.”

“Porthos, perhaps if d’Artagnan had something to concentrate on besides how lovely Aramis is making him feel, it might delay him.” Treville paused as Porthos dropped back to the floor like a predator ready to stalk his prey. “Why don’t you instruct our new recruit on how to give a proper handjob? I’ve no doubt he’s taken himself in hand enough times to get the basics, but it is different when it’s someone else’s cock.”

“My pleasure,” growled Porthos. “Who exactly is going to be my assistant?”

“Oh, Aramis is more than capable of doing two things at once. Why not reward him for how well he is preparing d’Artagnan for you.”

“Treville takes such good care of us,” Aramis whispered to d’Artagnan as he twisted in a second finger. He also adjusted his position kneeling on the ground so that when Porthos joined them a moment later, they faced each other in front of d’Artagnan and kissed deeply as Porthos took hold of Aramis.

Where to look? What to think? Aramis and Porthos kissed with such open mouths, their tongues constantly crossing the gap, begging to be watched, and all this while Aramis’s cock disappeared in Porthos’s huge hand. But there was Treville, still deep inside Athos. And without Porthos in front of him, Athos could throw his head back and moan, exposing his glorious throat, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. But he could barely concentrate on either sight for the overpowering sensation of what Aramis continued to do without hesitation.

“I don’t hear much instruction,” Treville said between grunts.

“Apologies,” Porthos said, breaking his kiss from Aramis, who whined in disappointment.

“D’Artagnan, surely you know how to take a cock in your hand,” Aramis said. “And as with sucking a man’s cock as we discussed earlier, each man and every cock wants something just a bit different. Listen with ears, eyes, and heart, and you will help your partner find bliss. Ah! Yes, Porthos. That is perfect!”

Porthos chuckled and looked up at d’Artagnan. “He likes long strokes and a good…twist at the end.” Aramis groaned at the word “twist,” which was accompanied by the appropriate gesture. “Build the speed slowly, especially with Aramis. Remember, this is supposed to be fun when you’re doing it for someone else, not just tossing yourself off so you can go to sleep.”

“Oh, fuck,” cried Athos’s voice, garnering all their eyes and attention. Treville maintained a hold on one of Athos’s hips, but he leaned forward over Athos’s back so that his other hand might wrap itself around Athos’s cock.

“And sometimes,” Treville began, but had to pause to shudder, catch his breath, fighting back what was clearly coming, “you’re just tossing a guy off at the end.” Without another word, Treville’s hips snapped forward with more force and speed than d’Artagnan would have thought possible, his grip tightened, Athos’s chin dropped to his chest, and they both moaned and fought for breath. A moment later, d’Artagnan watched spend shoot from Athos’s cock, and by the way Treville held Athos tight and growled, d’Artagnan knew he was spending inside Athos as well. He could only guess what it had felt like, but he longed not to have to guess any longer.

“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Porthos said at some point later, and d’Artagnan finally exhaled, not realizing he had stopped breathing.

“Oh, Porthos, it’s too beautiful.” Aramis’s breath hitched as he spoke, causing d’Artagnan to look down at the equal beauty that knelt on the floor before him. Aramis gripped Porthos tightly on the shoulder with one hand, while the one inside d’Artagnan trembled.

“Treville, I think someone else is about to join the two of you,” Porthos laughed.

Treville, who had collapsed atop Athos on the table looked over at them with eyes d’Artagnan did not believe were entirely focused on them. “It is fine. D’Artagnan is still learning.”

“Not… d’Artagnan…. I….” Aramis did not get the opportunity to finish his explanation before he spent onto Porthos’s hard stomach and over his firm hand.

“Well, yes,” said Treville. “Aramis has been through a lot tonight. That phallus is no toy. Well, it is a toy, but you surely understand.”

“I believe we do,” Porthos said in between soft kisses he planted on Aramis’s brow. “We just need to take care of d’Artagnan now.”

“And you.” Aramis looked hazily at Porthos and kissed him awkwardly on the mouth, his body not yet recovered from the shock of orgasm. “We would never forget to take care of you.”

Porthos pulled Aramis as tightly as he could to himself without Aramis’s fingers slipping from inside d’Artagnan. In fact, Porthos’s kiss seemed to revive him, and Aramis began fucking his fingers more firmly into d’Artagnan, even pushing in a third finger. D’Artagnan tried to swallow the shout attempting to leave his body without complete success. He knew he was supposed to wait for Porthos, until Treville gave him leave, but d’Artagnan wondered if he could will himself to spend even without being touched, because he just needed the release.

“How’s he doing?” Porthos asked.

“Nearly ready for you,” Aramis answered with a kiss.

“Then perhaps it is time we freed him.” At this voice, d’Artagnan opened his eyes to see Treville stalking over to the pole. He was wiping himself clean with a towel, and d’Artagnan could see Athos doing the same back at the table. D’Artagnan longed to call out his ascent to the plan, but Aramis’s deft fingers made it impossible for him to speak. After several seconds of trying and failing to make himself understood, he just threw his head back against the pole and groan through his clenched jaw.

Treville made his way around the pole and began untying his bonds. As ecstatic as this made d’Artagnan, he also now started worrying whether or not he would be able to remain on his feet and walk to wherever they wished to take him. He might just collapse on the floor and whimper in a ball of need. But he should have never worried, instead should have trusted to his brothers to take care of him. Just when Treville pulled the ropes away from him, Athos was there with his hands on d’Artagnan’s shoulders to balance him. And Aramis removed his fingers and rose, along with Porthos, and after swiftly cleaning themselves up, they reached in to steady d’Artagnan. Soon, four mouths and eight hand were on d’Artagnan, and if Aramis had wanted to find his seams earlier, well, they must surely be showing now.

“To the table,” Treville directed them all, d’Artagnan pliant to their wishes. “How do you think you would like this, d’Artagnan?”

But d’Artagnan just shook his head, barely understanding the question and completely incapable of answering it. “I’ll leave it to you. All of you. My brothers.”

They must have come to some agreement through the looks they shared so freely, because once they reached the table, they worked together to lift him and lie him down on his back. Aramis hopped onto the table just above d’Artagnan and cradled his head on strong thighs. Athos and Treville were on either side, holding his hands, kissing his arms and hands. Porthos stood at the end of the table rubbing oil on a cock d’Artagnan was just coming to appreciate the size of.

“If anything hurts too much, you say so,” Porthos said. D’Artagnan nodded, but Porthos shook his head. “I need you to say this out loud d’Artagnan. I can’t touch you if you don’t promise to tell me if I’m doing anything that doesn’t feel good.

D’Artagnan smiled up at him, at a loss for how he had been so lucky to find himself part of this fraternity. “I promise, Porthos.” He looked around at Athos, Treville, and Aramis. “I promise you all. Thank you so much.”

“Receiving thanks and he hasn’t even spent yet,” Athos drawled. “We may have outdone ourselves tonight.”

Aramis chuckled and Treville grinned pleasantly down at him. When d’Artagnan looked to Porthos once more, Porthos nodded, waited for d’Artagnan to nod back in confirmation, and then he eased his way inside.

All the sensations of the night were nothing compared to this. The stretch, the slight burn, it did hurt, but d’Artagnan didn’t think it was too much. In fact, it was exactly right, the pain bringing some clarity to his thoughts, something he appreciated enormously when Porthos shifted his angle and brushed against something within him that made d’Artagnan see stars. He wanted to scream profanities, declare how _good_ this felt, thank Porthos for having the most magnificent cock in Paris, but he could do none of these things. He could only thrash and groan inarticulately. He had no idea the volumes he was reaching until Aramis bent down and pressed his mouth to d’Artagnan.

“Go ahead,” Aramis said against his lips. “Go ahead and scream into me. But we don’t want you to wake the whole garrison.” With Aramis’s mouth once more pressed to his, d’Artagnan didn’t even try to hold back, screaming with all the pleasure and pain and perfection he was experiencing.

“Fuck, d’Artagnan, you feel so damn good,” Porthos said. “Want to fill you up. Right now, I do.”

“I need,” d’Artagnan tried to say into Aramis’s mouth. Aramis pulled back far enough so he could say, “I need to come. Help me.”

A moment later, a hand circled his cock, and d’Artagnan looked down to see that it was Athos. Treville was busy unfastening the cock ring Porthos wore. Aramis stroked d’Artagnan’s hair and whispered soft words d’Artagnan didn’t comprehend but loved hearing. With Athos touching him, d’Artagnan couldn’t possibly last long, and given the chance to give into his needs, neither could Porthos. Athos’s strokes came in time with Porthos’s thrust, and in a few moments more, they were both spending, exclamations of bliss erupting from both of them.

The world was a blur to d’Artagnan for he knew not how long. All he could say for certain was he’d never felt such utter exhaustion and contentment, and his whole body tingled and felt warm. He wanted to lay here with these hands on him and gentle sounds forever.

“You’re a mess, d’Artagnan,” Treville said before planting a kiss on his forehead. “I think you need a bath.”

D’Artagnan laughed. “I’ve already had a bath tonight.”

“Oh dear,” said Aramis, tracing the backs of his fingers down d’Artagnan’s checks. “If you think you can only have one bath a night, we still have a great deal to teach you.”

“Back into the tub,” Athos said.

“I’ve got him.” And with those words, Porthos picked him up from the table as though he were no more than a child and carried him over to the large tub dug into the garrison floor in which multiple people could soak at once. Porthos settled him in with a splash, and d’Artagnan wondered if five could fit in here. He had a feeling he was about to find out.


End file.
